All Too Human
by Hot elf
Summary: Megan Cousland and Nathaniel Howe are invited to a royal banquet in Denerim. When they get bored with the conversation at dinner, they have other ideas to spice up the evening. Gorgeous cover art by chenria.
1. Sinfully Delicious

**Chapter 1 - Deliciously Sinful**

Megan dropped the letters onto her desk with a very unladylike curse. Her pretty freckled face was scrunched up in irritation.

Nathaniel, who'd been idly leafing through a tome on the Nevarran style of sword-fighting, raised an amused eyebrow. "What is it, Meg? Another noble begging us to rescue his daughter?"

"Worse." Picking up the offending pieces of paper again, she handed them to him. "We are invited to court. _King Alistair and Queen Anora request the presence of the Arlessa of Amaranthine at the proclamation of their heir, his Highness, Prince Dougal._ There's one for you, too. _Ser Nathaniel Howe, of Vigil's Keep_." She laughed mirthlessly. "Really, if they want you there because of your noble blood they should have given you your titles back."

He shrugged, quickly scanning the missive, ignoring her remark. "It seems they found a suitable boy to adopt. Poor kid."

Megan nodded. "Alistair mentioned it to me last time we met. The sixth son of the Teyrn of Ostwick. He has King Calenhad's blood, through his great-grandmother. His mother died giving birth to him and the teyrn has since remarried. Apparently they won't miss him much."

Nathaniel's lips thinned. "A proper noble family then." He sighed. "Well, it will be good to have an official heir to the throne. I guess Anora's chances of conceiving are slim at best."

"She's not getting any younger." Megan was uncharacteristically serious. "And if we're quite honest, the plan to have her marry Alistair always had one big flaw."

They exchanged knowing glances. Right after the Blight, everyone had gone crazy about the Wardens, only too eager to glorify them and raise them to positions of power. Alistair, in particular, with his good looks and charm had seemed like a young god to the common people. Little did they know that their celebrated heroes were all too human; little did they know about the taint poisoning their blood. Now, several years later, it had become painfully obvious to everyone that there would be no heir born to the royal couple.

Nathaniel dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh, pulling Megan into his lap. "Well, maybe it's all for the best. At least this will free the king and queen from any obligation to keep up marital relations. Should be a relief for both of them."

Megan slapped his hand playfully. "Shush. Alistair told me they are getting on well nowadays. Mutual respect and all that."

"Not the same thing." Nathaniel ran his hand up her spine until he reached her unruly mop of hair, twisting several strands around his fingers to pull back her head, baring her throat to his kisses. "Respect is all well and good, but you and I both know we wouldn't be satisfied with it."

"True." She laughed, enjoying his attentions to the full. His lips were hot and greedy, and her body responded eagerly to his caresses. "Wait! We need to discuss this, and you keep distracting me."

He paused with another sigh, meeting her gaze for a moment. "What is there to discuss? You go and represent the Wardens; I stay here and make sure everything's going well."

"You're not serious, are you?" It was almost a whine. "I'm going to die of boredom if I go alone. You know what those noble gatherings are like, all chit-chat and false smiles. Please come with me." She looked up at him, her eyes big and round and pleading. "Please."

Nathaniel shrugged, not bothering to hide his amused chuckle. "If you insist. But who will you leave in charge here? Carver will be gone for at least another month, maybe more."

"I know. I miss him." Megan smiled fondly at the thought of their lover. Carver had left a week earlier to join his brother Revon on a mission to the Vimmark Mountains; some family affair or other. It had seemed important to him.

"Me too. I hope he has fun while he's away." Nathaniel's face was just as affectionate. "Anyway, what do you propose?"

"Anders can hold the fort for us, with a little help from Thorin and Sigrun. They'll be fine. It's just a few days" Megan was determined. "I'm not going without you."

* * *

"How do I look?" Megan inspected her reflection with a critical frown. "Okay?"

Nathaniel had been struggling with the fastenings of his blue Warden armour. When he looked up at her, he inhaled sharply. "Gorgeous."

Megan smiled, feeling a tad smug. She had been mad when Anora had insisted she wear a dress, as befit an Arlessa. In her own mind, she was Warden Commander first and foremost, and the ceremonial armour would have been far more appropriate. Yet she had to admit that dressing up like this had its charms. The gown she had chosen was lovely. The silken fabric was blue-green like the ocean on a sunny day; the tight little bodice just daring enough to annoy Anora. She was a bit worried she would stumble over the hem of the long, full skirt but, as she turned and walked toward Nathaniel, she was thrilled to realize how it changed the way she moved, making her hips swing seductively.

The effect wasn't lost on her lover. He moaned softly when his hands closed around her waist and he could feel her hot skin through the thin silk. Sliding them upwards he just barely grazed her breasts with his fingertips, then followed the line of her cleavage in a subtle caress.

"Sinfully gorgeous." His voice sounded rough and throaty.

Megan shivered with pleasure. Suddenly the evening ahead of them didn't look quite so boring any more. "Come on. We mustn't be late."

Nathaniel stepped back with a sigh. "A pity. I'd love to peel you out of this dress right now."

She grinned. "Well, half the fun is in the anticipation, isn't it?"

He threw her a dark look. _I can't wait until he finds out about my little surprise. _Megan shivered at the thought of how he would react to what she was wearing underneath. When she had tried on the dress, the Orlesian seamstress had tutted in disapproval at the sight of her linen smalls and told her assistant to fetch something more appropriate. _Something more appropriate_ had turned out to be the merest nothing made of dark blue silk and lace. Megan had never seen the like before, and she was pretty sure her prim Fereldan mother would have fainted at the thought of her daughter wearing it. As she made her way toward the banquet hall, she felt wonderfully wicked, savouring the way the silk caressed her skin intimately. _Oh yes. Definitely not boring._

A few minutes inside the hall had her suppressing the urge to yawn, though. Most of the Fereldan nobility was already present. Megan's low-cut dress immediately set tongues wagging among the respectable wives of the dignitaries from the Bannorn. In vain, she looked around for the few people who could be relied on to be a little more entertaining, like Bann Teagan, or Bann Alfstanna. They were both present, but already caught up in conversation. Fortunately, this was a relatively informal affair, for all the amount of blue blood assembled here. The official part, the proclaiming of the new heir, would only take a few minutes and afterwards everyone would settle down for a sumptuous dinner and the exchange of gossip.

The King and Queen were greeted with polite but restrained applause. There had to be a number of noblemen in the room who were less than happy with their choice of an heir. Maybe some of them had had hopes for the throne themselves. Megan silently congratulated Anora and Alistair on their decision; far better to bring in a relative outsider. The boy himself, Dougal, was standing between the two of them. He looked bright and pleasant, taller than his eight years, and he actually resembled Alistair a little, with his thick blond hair and his slightly goofy grin.

The Queen's voice was clear and firm as she introduced him to the assembled company. Everyone bowed and smiled. There wasn't even the smallest murmur of dissent, but Megan was certain that would change throughout the course of the evening as the wine flowed freely. Anora's spies would have a field day.

As soon as everyone was seated, the servants began to bring in the first course, much to the guests' vocal delight. Nathaniel had his place opposite her, between a matronly lady-in-waiting from Gwaren and a rather pompous court official whose name she'd already forgotten. She smiled radiantly at her lover, rolling her shoulders slightly as if to loosen stiff muscles, and enjoying the way his breath hitched at the movement of her breasts.

To her left, Arl Gallagher Wulff was fully engrossed in eating his soup, ignoring her completely. Since he was almost deaf and any conversation with him tended to involve lots of shouting and misunderstandings, that was rather a relief. While she mechanically replied to the bland observations of Bann Reginalda on her right, she kept throwing little glances at Nathaniel.

Maker, but he looked good in the blue armour! And he was obviously beginning to catch on to the game she was playing. As she watched him, he ran his tongue slowly over his lips, allowing his hooded eyes to rove all over her naked shoulders and down to her pert little breasts. Her nipples grew tight and hard against the thin fabric. When his lips curved up in a smile, she realized he could actually _see_ what he was doing to her. _And I bet he just loves to know it. _

The soup plates were carried off, and the next course carried in: small pancakes, filled with assorted vegetables and rolled into fat cigars. Megan wasn't all that hungry, but she wasn't about to waste a perfectly good opportunity. Reaching for one of the tubes, she began to nibble daintily on its tip, while throwing Nathaniel a sultry look from under her golden lashes. He bit back a laugh but at the same time his eyes darkened and the line of his shoulders grew decidedly more tense. _Got you! _She revelled in his reaction as she chewed slowly, licking her lips when she was finished.

Nathaniel got his revenge with the next course, though, when the servants came in with a huge plate of oysters, fresh from the fishing villages north of the city. She struggled to stifle a moan as he slowly sipped an oyster from its shell, closing his eyes in pleasure as the taste hit his palate. When he opened his eyes again and caught her gaze, she had to hold on to the edge of the table to keep her composure.

The roast was served and Bann Reginalda started questioning her about her family history. Megan had to focus on the conversation to avoid saying something blatantly stupid. It was just as well, really. She was more than horny enough as it was. Crossing her legs, she felt the damp silk slide against her core with a delicious gentle friction, the constant low throbbing in her lower belly making her impatient for the meal to be over.

When dessert arrived, a small puff pastry filled with creamy blancmange, sweet and delicious, Reginalda fell silent. Megan ate daintily, enjoying every bite, fully aware of Nathaniel's eyes on her. When she'd finished, she slowly licked her fingertips clean. She didn't even have to look at him. His gasp was audible and she smiled in triumph.

As soon as the King and Queen had risen, he was behind her with a few quick steps, pulling back her chair and helping her rise. His hand rested on the small of her back, a tad longer than was strictly proper, and she pushed back against it, just a little, because his touch felt so _good_.

The fabric of the dress was thin enough for Nathaniel to feel the outline of her smalls, to realize that there was something else in place of the usual plain linen. His eyes widened a little as his fingers traced the lacy edge of her panties. "Meg..." His voice was thick with arousal. He had to be grateful for the long mail tunic that effectively hid his plight.

Megan was thrilled to feel the power she had over him. For a moment, she was tempted to tease him further, to see how far she could go before he lost control, but then he pulled her hand up to his lips and the soft brush of his mouth across her knuckles sent such a flash of heat through her belly that she almost swayed on her feet.

Without another word, she turned and made for the nearest door, sure he would follow her.

* * *

_Big, big hugs and thanks to suilven for betaing this! _


	2. One Day

**Chapter 2 - One Day**

Outside in the corridor, Megan paused for a moment. She didn't know this part of the palace very well, but it didn't really matter. There were so many rooms that no one ever used. She turned a corner and, on impulse, opened the third door on the right, finding herself in a small study; probably some clerk's office. Nathaniel was close behind her, not even bothering to hide in the shadows. As soon as the door fell shut, he had her backed up against a wall, kissing her with fierce greed.

"Nate." She let her head fall back against the wooden panels, panting as his hot lips claimed her throat. His hands cupped her breasts, forcing them up above the neckline of her dress so he could suckle on her nipples.

She untied his heavy tunic and tossed it aside, running her hand over the bulge in his pants, fiddling with the laces. He was fully hard, must have been for some time, and he groaned with relief as his cock sprang free. Both of them were shaking with urgency. She helped him gather the folds of her skirt, bunching them up around her waist. As soon as the dress was out of the way, he sank to his knees, moaning at the sight of the lacy triangle covering her golden curls. The feel of his lips on her through the damp silk made her stifle a cry of pleasure. _Oh, I shall definitely wear those again, preferably with Carver around. _ When he began tugging impatiently at the thin fabric, she hurriedly reached down to help him untie the little bows holding it in place.

That accomplished, he got to his feet, lifting her from the floor and arranging her legs around his waist. Not for the first time, Megan thought how nice it was to have a man with the strong arm muscles of an archer. It helped that she was slim and petite but even so she admired his strength as he propped her up against the wall and slid home with a single long stroke. He pulled back immediately, only to thrust again and again, setting a brisk but steady pace that took her straight to the edge. She fought to keep back her screams, but in vain. It was just too good, too overwhelming; his cock inside her; his eyes locked with hers; the small noises he made in the back of his throat.

She came with a final high-pitched whimper, her whole body tight against his; shuddering with the force of her climax. He laughed breathlessly then followed her with a few hard thrusts, lowering her quickly to the floor afterwards; both of them leaning against the wall for support.

Megan pushed Nathaniel gently back to rearrange her dress but as he bent to retrieve her panties, she gasped in surprise. Standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face, was none other than the King himself.

"Megan! Andraste's grace, what do you think you're—" Alistair's face was as red as a beet, his voice turning even sharper when he realized who she was with. "Get out of my sight, Howe! Now!"

Megan flinched at his tone. There was no love lost between him and Nathaniel, never had been. Alistair had been jealous right from the start, as soon as he'd realized they had known each other before the Blight. He was not so much jealous in the sexual sense—there had never been anything of that kind between him and Megan. But he was envious of Nathaniel's noble upbringing, his easy familiarity with Megan, even his life with her as a simple Warden, as opposed to the rules and conventions governing his own life at the palace.

Nathaniel tensed, his lips tight and his eyes flashing with fury, but before he could say something he would regret later, Megan put a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Nate. You'd better leave. You know I can handle this."

_Handle him_, she'd almost said. Megan bit her lip. It wouldn't do to forget that Alistair was king now, no longer just her fellow Warden tagging along with her without any ambition to contradict her. They had put him in a position of power, albeit against his will, and they had to acknowledge that. Still, she wasn't going to bow and scrape either. She'd known him too long for that.

They quickly covered up and Nathaniel left with a last worried glance at her. Megan turned to face Alistair.

He was actually _pacing_ the room in agitation. "Maker, Megan! How could you—"

She shook her head, just barely resisting the impulse to roll her eyes. "Please, Alistair, calm down. It can hardly be news to you that Nate and I are more than just good friends. Surely the royal spy network is more efficient than that."

"I've heard rumours." Alistair clenched his teeth. "And how you can let him touch you is beyond my understanding... A Howe! With all his father has done to you, done to us!"

"He is not his father. What Arl Howe did or didn't do is hardly his fault," she pointed out, doing her best to sound calm and rational.

Alistair snorted contemptuously. "Whatever. What you and that... scoundrel are up to together at the Keep is no business of mine. What concerns me is how you can be so utterly shameless! You were lucky it was just me. Anyone could have walked in on you."

His prim tone was more than she could bear. Megan could no longer suppress her grin. "Well, yeah. That was part of the appeal, you know."

He shook his head, refusing to be charmed. "The two of you are a disgrace to your families. And a disgrace to the Wardens. If Duncan knew how you were besmirching our honour—"

"Oh honestly, Alistair!" Megan sneered. _This is rich!_ "I owe Duncan a lot, and I loved him at least as much as you did but, as for him being honourable... He was a Warden through and through and he had few scruples when it came to doing what he felt was necessary." Alistair's stubborn expression irked her more than she could say, and the next sentence slipped out before she could stop herself. "Anyway, his _honour_ didn't stop him from fucking me all the way from Highever to Ostagar."

Alistair blanched. "That's not true. Duncan wouldn't have—"

"You think?" Her expression was cool but at the same time she felt a hot stab of nostalgia at the memory of Duncan's warm, lean body. "He couldn't keep his hands off me, not for a single night."

"I don't believe you. He never mentioned anything of that kind!" Alistair stopped right in front of her, looming over her tiny frame, his face agitated.

Megan shrugged, unimpressed. "I guess I shouldn't have told you. He didn't want you to know back then, and maybe he was right. But you know what?" She stepped closer, gazing up at him. "It's time you stopped putting him on a pedestal and pretending he was a saint when, in fact, he was very much a man."

With an indignant huff, the king turned away and left the room. Megan watched him retreat, wondering if her words would have any effect at all.

* * *

Megan was woken by a ray of sunlight that tickled her nose, making her sneeze as she sat up in the big four-poster bed. Her room at the palace was nice, big and airy, much more pleasant than the simple little alcove Nathaniel had been allotted; not that she would ever have considered sending him off there to sleep anyway. He had been waiting for her in her room last night, and he had very thoroughly made good on his earlier promise to peel her out of her dress. Now, though, he was nowhere to be seen.

She yawned and stretched, flinching when she realized how stiff and sore she felt. Nathaniel was probably down at the archery range, showing off his skills to the young bucks from the Bannorn. Megan briefly considered joining him there. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine at the thought of watching him practise. He was so hot when he pulled back the string, his whole body tense with anticipation, his attention wholly focussed on the target...

But the weather was lovely, a bright spring morning, and she decided to go for a walk in the garden instead. For a while, she wandered aimlessly among the rose bushes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the quiet atmosphere, until the peace was shattered by a large mabari bounding toward her with a happy bark.

"Barkspawn!" She recognized Alistair's dog immediately and obediently began to scratch the tawny belly presented to her.

And sure enough, the king wasn't far behind, looking a lot more relaxed than last night. Megan smiled to herself. Alistair was always happiest like that, out with his dog, in simple leathers, as far from the courtly protocol as he could get.

When he saw her, he looked more than a little sheepish. "Megan. I'm so sorry. I... was a bit rash yesterday, I guess. I apologize for what I said about Howe. But, really, what were you thinking?"

Megan grinned back, glad of the change in him. "There wasn't a lot of thinking involved, to be quite honest. But I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just... Those noble gatherings really bring out the worst in me. It's so hard to fight the urge to do something crazy, just to shake them out of their complacency."

Alistair smiled back ruefully. "Oh, I know the feeling. For the longest time I was tempted to play pranks on them at every official occasion. Maybe I would have done it, at one point or other. But Anora—" He broke off, blushing a little. "I'm afraid she wouldn't consider it funny."

Megan grew serious. She was well aware that this marriage would never have come about if it hadn't been for her relentless prodding. Some part of her still felt guilty about it. She had known Alistair didn't love Anora; she had known he would most likely be unhappy at court. And yet, it had seemed the best solution back then.

"How are you doing, you and her?" she asked carefully.

He swallowed, scratching the dog's broad head, but then he straightened his back and looked her in the eyes. "Anora is a good wife, and a wonderful queen. I don't think I'll ever be up to her standards, but she is kind and treats me with respect. We're... doing okay, I guess. And it's easier now that we no longer—" He broke off again, blushing an even deeper tone of scarlet.

Megan sighed. _What Alistair really needs is a sweet young mistress to brighten his nights._ She wondered who she could talk to in order to make it happen. Teagan maybe? Or even Anora herself. She doubted the queen would mind, as long as it was handled with discretion and Alistair didn't neglect his duties.

"Megan?" Alistair seemed hesitant, scratching his neck and avoiding her gaze.

"What is it?" She was surprised at the sudden rush of affection she felt for him. No matter their differences, they had been through a Blight together, and she knew he was a genuinely sweet person.

"Is it true? You and Duncan? Did you really—" He was blushing _again_! _Maker, he really needs to grow up!_

Megan sighed, but she kept her tone as gentle as she could. "Yes, it's true. But you need to understand... It wasn't some sordid affair, an old man lusting after a young girl, that sort of thing." She took a deep breath. "We both wanted it. We both needed it. I was hurting so much after what happened at Highever. Duncan making love to me... It was the only thing that kept me sane. And he—" She paused to collect herself, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her balance. "I think he was aware that he didn't have much longer to live. He knew better than anyone what would await us at Ostagar, and his Calling probably wasn't far off either."

Their eyes met and Alistair took a long, shuddering breath. It wasn't something the Wardens often spoke about, but neither of them could ever quite forget about it either. The Calling. The Taint was always there, waiting in the background of their lives like an assassin in hiding; waiting patiently, inexorably, until the day it would claim them. Him, her, Nathaniel. All of them. That, too, would always tie them to each other.

"It's fine, Alistair." She gently took his trembling hand. "Duncan won't be forgotten. And we will join him in the shadows, one day. Hopefully, one far from now."

He didn't answer, but he pressed her hand hard enough to make her flinch. They parted in silence.

* * *

"Maker, Nate, I'm so glad we can go back home." Megan exhaled deeply as they left Denerim behind, making their way up north toward Vigil's Keep. "Imagine if my father had got his way and I were married to one of those stuffy old banns now, spending my whole life at court! I'd have gone mad. They would have locked me up by now, kicking and screaming."

Nathaniel guided his horse closer to her side so he could take her hand, raising it to his cheek. "Shhh. You're here with me, and we're putting more distance between them and us with every passing moment. Two days and we'll be at the Keep, and Carver will be back soon." His eyes caught hers. "It's fine, Meg. It all turned out well in the end."

Megan smiled back. Yes, her life was good right now, with not one, but two, men who adored her and were ready to share the load with her; not bad as far as happy endings went.

_Except it isn't the end,_ she thought with a sudden flash of wistfulness as her mind travelled back to her earlier conversation with Alistair. The end wasn't living happily ever after, no matter how much they loved each other. The end would be sad and ugly, a lonely death in the Deep Roads. But maybe the end didn't matter as much as the way there. Maybe all the years they would have together, full of love and companionship, were more important than that one brief moment of horror. After all, in the end, everyone died alone.

That, too, was all too human.

* * *

_A big thank you to suilven! _

_You can read more about Megan, Nate and Carver on my AO3 account - look for "Stay" and "Three Is a Lucky Number" ;)  
_


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